


Watson and the Beast

by JennaWho



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark, Early Death, Evil, Fear, Feels, Hallucinations, I have no idea where I'm going with this, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Mythical Shit, Professor John, Smutty, Strip Tease, Teasing, Touching, monster!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaWho/pseuds/JennaWho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor John Watson has just invented the most incredible creation he has ever made, Sherlock. Though Sherlock scares off most of John's family members (or what's left of them), He makes a good friend for John in his isolated years of experimenting.<br/>No one could replace the two friends until John's experiment back-fired on him. </p>
<p>(Inspiration from pictures)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Talon to Finger

Background Information

Deep down in the dungeons of Professor John Watson's castle, was Safepoint. It was like one of those labs you would see in those horror movies, but it was simply more horrid. Safepoint was another word for "hell" for anyone who has ever seen it. That lab had blood scattered all over the stone wall. The fluids would slowly dry in the un-even cracks and spaces of the stone long ago. Terrific amounts of skin of small animals and even humans was strewn along the floor. Sometimes, the fur would be along counter-tops; other times, it would have blown away from the air being rushed in whenever John swung his wooden door open. The shelves in that lab were always covered in menacing things like organs and dusty books on how to be a surgeon. It would not be a surprise to see someone dead in there. The place was really a sight to see.

John's family members despised that room. It was a shame John even allowed them to see it in that state. Disease was practically floating in the air among that lab, but sadly, it was John's home. Yes, he did own a castle, and the dungeon was only a fraction of its spaces. He _did_ spend 95% of his time in Safepoint either experimenting or sleeping (and that sleep did come from overworking). The other 5% was when he was eating upstairs in the normal part of his castle and other days when he felt like being away from his addiction to his lab. 

Most of the time, Professor Watson would feel lonely. None of his family would come over anymore, stating "stop messing around with dead humans and start interacting with alive ones." 

That for John was not the easiest task to accomplish. He was never again the social man that he once used to be. After his wife, Hillary, left John with his two daughters, he vowed never to fall in love again. That vow slowly became easy to achieve for John. After Hillary, he stayed in his castle, playing with straw dummies and sat around in Safepoint making nothing useful to his time. There was no more cause left in him. He was so alone and sad until that remarkable day he decided to make a friend. 

This friend wasn't the normal friend one would have, though John planned it to be this way. It was a simple experiment to make him a cheerful man. The goal swept him off his feet almost instantly, bringing him back into a happier state.

After a long three years, Professor Watson finished the beast. He named it Sherlock after someone he vaguely remembered in his past years. He couldn't remember who but, whatever, he got his friend that he worked hard for. And for that time, that one tiny amount of time when John shook Sherlock's hand, he felt a wonderful feeling. It was a greater any feeling he ever felt. Better than marriage. Better than his children. Better than winning more money than there was on the planet. It was joy. He finally felt joy when Sherlock came into his life. It was a miracle. 

# ~☢~

"Wake up." John said, slamming the wooden door open to one of his cells. He was in the dungeon again, like normal. 

Sherlock slowly raised his head from drooping to look up at John replacing a completely ripped up toy with a fresh one. The thick black curly hair was covering one of Sherlock's empty eye sockets. 

"Mggrf." Sherlock rumbled. He couldn't speak. His mouth was very sloppily sewed together. It wrapped around his cupid lips from one base of the ear to the other. It was quite a waste of thread to sew up Sherlock's cheeks, too. 

"I'm sorry I can't spend time with you today." John said, picking up Sherlock's hand and rubbing it. Watson delicately glided his fingertips along Sherlock's ginormous tiger-like claws. John loved how Sherlock's talons curved into a slight "U" shape but still looked quite straight. He slid his fingers along the metal of Sherlock's handcuffs that were securely chained into the wall. Yes, he was in a way stuck to the wall, but he had enough distance to get up and walk half-way across the room. 

Sherlock's single eye (his left eye) looked right into John's. He knew he couldn't spend time with him but sadly, he learned that it had to be that way. He understood John had more things to his life, but just because Sherlock was Sherlock, he gave John the most pleading puppy eyes John had ever seen from him. 

"I told you not to look back at me that way..." John teased, brushing the hair out of Sherlock's eye socket. Sherlock replied with a grumble, rolling his eye and dropping his gaze back to the floor. 

Once John parted from Sherlock's body, The monster scooted against the wall, curling up into a ball. John sighed, and shoved the shredded doll into his lab coat pocket, walking around the cell room and taking in the scene. 

Every time John stepped into Sherlock's cell, he felt a nice feeling cover him all over. Though the room looked pretty much like Watson's Safepoint (just without all the extra appliances that make a lab), it made him feel so amazing inside. Then there was the fact that he kept his beast in this cell. He loved it.  

"I will be back around five o' clock. If you want something to do, call the butler." John said, striding up to Sherlock and giving his back a pat. Sherlock quickly replied with a swat of his hand and a chuckle. John quickly pulled back before the claws on Sherlock's hand pierced his soft skin. "Careful. I told you already." 

"Grrrgh." Sherlock wrapped his hand around the professor's and turned around, pulling him into a hug. John was uncomfortable in this position. He looked like a dented 90 degree angle. John gave his back a little pat before breaking the embrace and swiftly walking out the door. The poor lab coat almost got stuck in the doorframe. 

Sherlock stared at the door for the rest of the day while John was out. He never called the butler or destroyed his doll. He longed for Watson. His only other time from constantly staring at the ceiling above him was when he was with John. He never wanted Watson to leave him. Sadly, Sherlock knew he had other things in his life he had to do. He was fine with it just as long as it didn't take up more time away from Sherlock. Anything like that, Sherlock would have to consider a change. And he could change it. He knew exactly how. 


	2. I Found Someone

It was an awfully long time until John came back into Sherlock's cell. He had been out almost the whole day. He wasn't even there to give him anything to play with, the butler had to do it. 

John creaked the door slowly open and popped his head out. All Sherlock saw when he turned around was John's forehead and eyes... and his golden-brown hair. 

"Sorry I'm late but I promise we can definitely have some fun-time in the garden." John happily suggested. Sherlock gave a small nod, getting up and walking as far as he could before the chains jerked him back a bit. John slithered out of the middle of the door frame and dove into a long but passionate hug. He felt Sherlock's claws poke at his back which made Watson smile on his bare and quite pale shoulder. 

"You are the most amazing thing I could ever have. Better than Hillary, better than my kids." He mumbles. Sherlock picks up his surprisingly light head and brushed noses. John giggled, knowing this was Sherlock's way of saying "I love you." He didn't know what kissing was so that was his way... of kissing. 

After two minuets, John parted from Sherlock and trailed his fingers along the chains all the way up to the lock on the stone wall. It would be very difficult to find that lock if he never used his hands along the chain. He also couldn't feel for it because the lock was like a knife. John made it that way that whenever Sherlock tried to break free, because of his big and clumsy hands, he would cut those hands to shreds. 

John quickly pulled a key from his back pocket and unlocked the sharp latch. Sherlock slightly jumped in the air from the sudden sound of metal chains hitting the floor. He was still facing the door. 

"Such a pity that the bonds work the other way around, huh?" John laughed, walking Sherlock out the door to the main dungeon parts. Sherlock gave a small grunt in reply. "I do have to talk to you about something important. I wanted you to know about it.. Just because I know you care about me." The doctor opened the main dungeon door suddenly, making Sherlock almost scream (if he could).

It was a perfectly sunny day as Sherlock could see. The sun poured through the windows into his one eye which made him almost burn. It hurt to see sunlight. Sherlock hasn't seen it in the longest time, he knew. But otherwise, he loved it. The warmth it brought on his exposed skin was delightful. He wished that he had sunlight in his cell other than torches and damp floors. 

"I see you like the brightness. Careful, don't look into the sun. You will ruin the one eye you have left!" Watson laughed. Sherlock's quick response was a small snort of the nose. 

"Butler!" John called. A man in a fine tuxedo rushed to the professor's presence. 

"Yes, Sir?"

"May you get Sherlock a brand new doll? I will be in the garden." 

"Yes, Sir." The butler hastily replied, rushing into a distant room. John gripped Sherlock's hand tight before leading him out into the garden. 

Sherlock then stopped, right in the doorway to the garden. He just loved this. Sherlock never saw John's garden, but it was a sight to see. 

All he saw when he stepped onto the gravel was two big things of [Veronica's](https://auntiedogmasgardenspot.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/veronica-flowers-3.jpg) at his sides. They smelt delightful. The garden was also filled with other amazing plants that made a rainbow pastel color throughout the whole place. And at the end, was Sherlock's favorite treasure, John. He was standing in a patch of [Russian Sage.](http://www.greenparadisetx.com/catalog/perennials/russian-sage.jpg) John, of course, was smiling as bright as the sun above Sherlock. His hand was waving for him to come over. It was like John was a siren and Sherlock was the pirate victim. It set the perfect scene. 

"Come on, slow poke!" John teased. Sherlock slowly paced to John's side before he was set down on a small bench. It looked like Birch wood. 

"So as I said, this is important-" John coughed and looked into Sherlock's eye. "-I know I said that you are my best friend and everything. I have a life. I am a living man with goals like any other man could. I can love, I can be loved. I am loved." John hesitated to say the rest. Sherlock didn't quite understand, but pointed to himself. John laughed.

"Yes, I am loved by you. I know. But, not just... you, Sherlock." 

"Mrgggh?" 

"I met someone, Sherlock. Her name is Mary." John gave a wide grin that almost went from ear to ear. Sherlock slowly put his talon-like finger back into his lap with a saddening look. 

The words stood before them, loud and proud. 

They grew on Sherlock. 

"Nrrrgh." Sherlock grunted angrily. John knew he was growing a bit jealous. 

"Oh, Don't feel bad about it. I still love you." The doctor said with a lessened smile, rubbing the beast's shoulders. Sherlock pulled back with a snort. John didn't try to calm him after that because when he tried to soothe him again, Sherlock threatened professor Watson by scratching his face. The cuts weren't  _that_ deep in his cheeks, but they oozed shiny blood from each gash. He just simply got up out of the bench with a sigh. 

"I thought you would really like to meet her, Sherlock." John complained, strolling past the [Lantanas](http://ponsetilandscaping.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Lantana.jpg) and plucking a batch from it's stem. The flower batch's petals fell from the delicate pluck. "She would've loved to see you..." Sherlock looked up at John, glaring. 

"Urgh." He said, getting up and strolling to the professor. 

"Oh so you changed your mind?" John smirked. He got a nod in response. 

"Sir, I got the doll." The butler yelled at the door of the garden entrance. John rolled his eyes. 

"What took you so long?" 

"Someone wanted me to get you and she wouldn't stop talking!" 

"Ah, She's here. Perfect, too. Come, Sherlock. Let's meet her." John took Sherlock's hand. "We should also put you in some clothes.... You can't meet her naked, as always." John laughed. Sherlock chuckled through his nose. 

# ~☢~

There was a great silence between Mary and Sherlock. They stared at each other. Their eyes flickered over each other's faces. Not a word was spoken, except from John that was smiling. 

"This is Sherlock, Mary. I made him." He grinned, gesturing his hand to Sherlock as he turned his head to John. Even though he was behind Mary, he still made motions like she was watching. 

"He's.... Interesting..." She smiled, turning around to see his beaming smile.

Her grin was fake.

She was not impressed by the mound of meat standing before her. 

"Thanks. He's my treasure." John walked over to Sherlock and held his hand. The butler made Sherlock put a suit and gloves on so John wasn't touching his skin. He could still feel Sherlock's love and compassion spread into John's hand as Sherlock slowly wrapped his fingers around John's. Mary stood watching their friendship surround them as they looked at each other and smiled. 

Mary glared quite quickly at Sherlock. 

"Aren't you going to show me around? Maybe the bedroom? I plan on staying the night." 

"Yeah!" John let go of Sherlock and rushed to Mary's side, not hesitating to show her up the stairs and to the bedroom. 

Sherlock turned back around from looking at the couple. He sadly pecked at his gloves until they fell to the floor.

His happiness rolled behind him, trying to get back to him. They fell short, laying beside the gloves, eyeballing Sherlock until he slowly walked back down into the dungeon. 

 


	3. Blood and Broken Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're a bit depressed, please don't read this chapter today.
> 
> It's not going to help.

"I know you love him." A deadly voice came up from behind. It slithered into Sherlock's ear. It bit him on the inside. Venom passing through his bloodstream. 

He slowly turned around, his back sliding into the corner of the cold, stone wall. 

Mary stood at the entrance to the cell, closing the door with her back. She held a shining object in her right hand. It was already stained with red fluids. 

A knife. 

A bloody knife.

"Nrggh." Sherlock groaned, getting up. The bottom of his suit was now wet from the floor below. It still looked pretty good on him. 

At that moment, Sherlock knew what Mary had put that knife. And god would Sherlock would have ended her right at that second if the butler forgot to strap him into his chains. 

His motivator to end her was strong and worthy. 

Sherlock quickly flung backwards from the grasp of the chains. They were pulling him back. Saving him from a big mistake. 

"It's alright he's not dead." 

"Mrrg!" Sherlock struggled against the chains. He held out his arms and talon-like fingers to strangle her. 

"Oh shush. You're next." She smiled, holding up the knife. She started to grow a grin as she moved her eyes from Sherlock to the knife.

"His blood is salty." She frowned. "Too salty." 

Sherlock glared but soon fell backwards when a sharp object hit him in the left collarbone. Mary had thrown the knife at him. The suit ripped. The blood spilled slowly like water. But blood is thicker than water. 

"Arrrrghhh!" Sherlock's pain loudly hummed through his nose. Mary watched over him as he curled up on the floor unable to move. Half the blade stuck out and the handle stood out like a pole on a blank hill. 

"You like that? Let me help." She kicked him over on his back and placed her hand on the handle. Sherlock watched her fingers wrapping around with teary eyes and tight fists. With the most delirious smile Sherlock has ever seen, she pushed the knife further into his body. His screams were muffled. His head was turning. His chest was burning. His suit was stained. 

A punch was thrown. It knocked Mary onto the floor beside Sherlock. It almost knocked her right out. Especially because she was punched on the nose. 

It was broken. 

And bleeding. 

"Ah! You bastard! Fight me." She yells. Sherlock responds with changing his position. 

With a ginormous leap, he sprang onto his knees over Mary. His rage was fire, burning bright in his eyes. Mary could see it clearly. 

The strings around Sherlock's mouth were almost undone. The hung loose against his lips. He would be able to talk if he could. And he did.

"I ki-il. Kill." He raged, wrapping his claws around Mary's neck. She cried as he pierced her skin. 

Her regrets were flung out her mouth and onto Sherlock's face. The rage burnt them to ashes. 

With every second, he dug in deeper. Cries and shouts were thrown everywhere. Blood was slathered on the floor below her head. It smeared her makeup. 

Sherlock's wound was dripping over Mary's clothes. He began to grow weak and couldn't keep pushing. She was almost dead. 

"Ah!!" She yelped, pushing on Sherlock's arms. He grunted to keep his claws inside her neck.

She stopped moving. 

Her arms fell to her sides. 

Her mouth stopped and her eyes stayed in one place. 

Sherlock slowly took his talons out of her neck and looked at her. His pain was immense. It was like someone was stabbing him... Oh...

He looked down to see the knife still in him. Just now did it start to act up again. 

Sherlock looked up and opened his mouth. He yelled. With his mouth. 

Long loud cries of agony and pain. He curled up beside Mary and held the handle of the knife. Tears fell to the floor as blood pooled on his wound and around the knife.

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock!" John was surprised. Blood was shining against the torch lights.

Mary laid flat on her back with blood all around her. 

Sherlock laid next to her with a knife in his chest.  

"Sherlock!" He ran over. His tears were already forming. 

Sherlock rolled over and looked at John's watery eyes. There was their love. It was being broken in-front of them. Shriveling. It was going to end.

John placed his hand on Sherlock's chest and lowered in for a hug. He purposefully avoided making contact with the knife.

"I. I love. y-you." He whispered. John sighed.

"I never knew you could talk." He smiled against Sherlock's neck. "I love you so much. You don't even know."

"Yes.. Ah." He groaned, closing his eyes. He knew he was almost done.

"Sherlock please don't go. I can't lose another. I love you so much. You are my treasure and I can't live without you. I need you to stay. Don't go now, stay close, be with me. Please. Stop this. Please..." 

"J-John." Sherlock breathed. He took John's head and rubbed noses. 

"You idiot, I love you." He mumbled. "That's not how you kiss." 

John smiled as he brought Sherlock's head up. Their lips met and Sherlock almost lost it. A light moan was already put into John's mouth. He smiled. 

John parted and sucked in some air. He hovered over Sherlock, their hands tied. 

"I want to keep you alive but I can't." John smiled. Sherlock grinned back, showing his teeth. 

"B-Bye, John."

"No." John wasn't ready. Neither was Sherlock. 

A tear slid down Sherlock's cheek. 

"I love you." 

"Stop. Please." John cried. 

Sherlock couldn't respond with that. His soul left him and stretched to the ceiling. His mouth sat open. String laid on his torn lips. 

"No, no, no!" John balled. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's body and cried on his bloody chest. 

Agony and guilt covered John. It wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. A blanket that you don't want to sleep with because it's already too hot. 

A sick and murderous emotion grew inside him. An emotion that drove him mad.

It consumed him almost immediately. 

In a matter of seconds, John was off of Sherlock's corpse and was walking out of the room, without love. 

He left it behind. 

He left the last of his love with Sherlock.

It poured into his dead body through his wound. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, sorry for killing Sherlock so soon. I got bored.
> 
> It's okay if you cried btw.  
> I cried while writing this chapter. No joke. 
> 
> YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  
> If you didn't cry then you have no feels. Sorry.


	4. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll kill you if you don't put gay smut in this."  
> -FSOS (Wifey <3) 
> 
> well, i tried.  
> here you go :)

There was always a mellow but eerie silence in Doctor John’s castle the day forward from Sherlock’s death.  His sorrow ate at him and his grief controlled him.

John’s skin was pale and baggy from staying up late at night. His big bold blue eyes faded to a grey. His hair was growing white strands and he lost too much weight. He was a dead man walking. Nothing but skin covering bones.

John’s butler quit after Sherlock’s death. It drove him mad to see John in such a horrible state. He luckily forgot about his past and moved on to different things like bar-tending. He made a family of six, and never came back to the castle.

The flowers in the garden wilted. John’s other treasure. His beloved garden. Forgotten.

Watson’s family decided to give him time, after hearing what had happened. Yet, he never told them that the corpses were still in his house. The souls of Mary and Sherlock were linked in the cell. Fighting. Eternally.

# ~☢~

“Ah, Sherlock. You’re so intelligent. I love you even more that you can speak.” John whispered. He saw Sherlock sipping on some Earl Grey. John mimicked him, sipping at the same time and smiling at his scarred face.

“Thank you, master. I never know why you did sew me up in the first place _._ ” He chuckled, joking but still hoping for an answer.

“Well you see…” Someone knocks on the door. Blinked his eyes and saw emptiness in-front of him. No tea. No Sherlock. No smiling. Just a chair.

Another knock sounded through the hall.

“Alright. Hold your horses!” He groaned, getting up and shuffling to the door.

John opened the door slowly and poked his head out to see who it was. The guest caught him by surprise.

“Hey, John. How are you?” A familiar face smiled at him.

“Harry?”

“What? I can’t come over to see how you’re doing after that… incident?”

“I don’t know. Come in, I guess.” John looked to the floor, opening the door after sticking his head back inside.

“I hope you’re feeling fine.” She smiles, as she walks in. John notices what she’s wearing.

Harry was wearing a nice flowery dress that was pink. It had detailed yellow and green flowers all over the fabric, while the shape held tight against her skin. There was a slit in the back, on the bottom going from knee-height to her upper thigh. She wore white gloves, too. A bit prepared for something.

“You look like you just came back from church.” He chuckled. Harry smiled.

“I’ve got this date soon. I need your help, though.” She stripped off a glove and wrapped in around her forearm. “It would be nice for you to help me out. I think I want to marry her. She’s my treasure. You know? I don’t want her to go.” She frowns. John knew exactly what she meant. Trying to keep something but you can’t really do it.

“She planned the date but we haven’t got along in months. She is probably going to tell me we’re over.”

“Sorry, Harry.”

“No it’s fine.” She nervously chuckled. Her hand did that thing. That thing. When she scratched behind her ear at awkward moments.

“So, how do you need my help?” John asked. He ruffled out his coat, crumpled and needs to be ironed.

“I need you to go on the date with me so she doesn’t break-up with me. Will you do that? For your sister. Plus, you need to get out. You’ve been lousy and sad since Sherlock died.”

John scratches his head. Thinking.

“I have to wear something nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine…” He smiles, running up the stairs. Time to get out.

# ~☢~

“You look good in that.” Sherlock smiles. He scans his eyes over the outfit. Yellow jumper and jeans. Perfect looking on John.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Cream suits you.” He laughs. His smile faded shortly after, making a straight face after.

“Something is wrong now.” He smirks.

“Wh-what? What’s wrong with it? Is it the jeans?”

“Yeah. Change them. Let me help.” He walks over slowly. John smiles. He needed to go soon. Real soon.

Sherlock slowly knelt down in-front of John. John sucked in a bit of air. Sherlock’s slaws crept up to John’s zipper almost like he was doing nothing.

“John! We have to go!” Harry called from downstairs. John sighed and looked down.

Nobody was knelt down in-front of him.

“Right. Coming.” He mumbled, looking to the mirror against the wall. He caught a glimpse of just the left side of his face. His eyes really were faded. He really was extremely pale. He looked like a ghost. A walking ghost. It disgusted him.

“John!” Harry yelled. Her voice was impatient and nervous. It reminded John of his old wife’s voice.

“Alright. Calm yourself.” He said, opening the door and walking down. Harry paced the room below, mumbling and playing with her gloves. When she looked up, she stopped moving. Her mascara was running.

“Harry.” John sighed. He rushed down by her side and held her.

“I don’t want her to leave me. I can’t live without her.” She wept. John frowned, thinking of Sherlock.

_I didn’t want Sherlock to leave, too._

Someone knocked on the door. Harry wiped her eyes and put on her gloves. The mascara got on the edges of them. What did it matter?

“Wait I thought you were picking her up. How did she know to come here?”

“I text.” Harry snorted, opening the door.

Right there, a woman stood tall and proud. Black silky hair and a short blue dress. It was designer. Showing nothing except shoulder. Turtle-neck dresses looked exquisite on her. She wore navy eyeshadow and liner that went out and curled around like the end of a vine. Her lips were purple. Her face was straight and dull. She didn’t smile. She didn’t look around. She didn’t move. She just stood.

“Get in the car, Harry.”

“I’m bringing my brother with me. Is that fine?” Harry gestured to John. He looked to the floor while the woman's eyes flickered to John. Her face stayed completely still, except her eyes that rolled over his body once and back forward to Harry.

"Why?"

"He needs to get out." 

"Why?"

"His friend died." 

"Fine. Get in the car." She turned around, her hair stood stiff. No movement. Still. 

Harry looked at John and smiled. 

"Thank you so much. She is in such a pissy mood. You know?"

"I know how you feel." John chuckled. They walked out in unison. Smiling. Same foot same step same time. 

# ~☢~

“What are you again?” John asked, chewing on some salad. House salad was his favorite. Nothing else.

“Nurse.” Clara mumbled, blowing off some soup. Her lipstick was still bold and strong, staying 100% against her puffy lips.

Harry sat across from Clara, still and silent. Her lips never smiled or frowned. Her gloves stayed tight to her arms. Her hands rested in her lap.

“Harry. You alright?” John nudged her. She didn’t move.

“Harriet.” Clara spoke, with a louder voice. Almost a yell.

“Yeah?”

“Eat your food. I’m not paying if you don’t eat it.” Clara grumbled. Her lips sealed around the spoon.

All was silent after that. John never spoke a single word. Clara quickly finished her soup. Harry never touched her food.

“House salad. I always wondered what it tasted like.” Sherlock purred, sitting across from John. His talon was creeping towards the dish, in a seducing way. His mouth curled at the sides and his pupils dilated intensely. 

“It’s great.” John said, smiling.

“What?” Clara spoke with disgust. Her eyes widened and her hand dropped the spoon almost immediately.

“John. Some things you have to keep for yourself…” Harry whispered.

“I don’t get it. I thought we were talking about house salad? That’s what Sherlock was talking about.” John blushed.

“No. We were talking about what it felt like to have ‘toy products’ up our arse.” Harry scoffed. John looked down at his salad and back up in-front of him.

Sherlock was gone.

“Sorry.”

“Sherlock isn’t here with you, John. Don’t be crazy.” Harry sighed, looking down at her gloves. Clara shook her head and pushed the soup bowl forward.

Another un-successful dinner.

# ~☢~

“John. Open your eyes.” A voice called.

John opened his eyes slowly and looked before him. Sherlock stood at the end of his bed with a smirk and purple shirt and black pants on. His face wasn’t green anymore but more of a white. The white someone gets when they’re scared. There was a handle sticking out of his shoulder-blade.

The knife.

It was on-top of the shirt. There was blood. Everywhere.

On his chest, arms, face, and legs. He looked like someone smeared it over him like foundation.

“Sherlock.” John whispered.

“Yeah. Stay laying down.” He grinned, ghosting his talons over his shirt buttons. He tried hard to avoid the handle.

His claws un-did the first four buttons, showing quite a bit of extremely pale chest. Blood was slashed across his upper chest, going down in small different streaks. It made John cringe.

A tiny groan escaped from Sherlock’s mouth as he trailed his hand over his nipple. His mouth turned from a gasp to a smirk in seconds after, un-buttoning the rest of his buttons. 

Slowly unbuttoning. 

Painfully slow.

And painfully sexy.

"You're such a tease." John moans, running his hands slowly down to his groin area. Sherlock glared and took his hands off his shirt.

"No touching yourself. I want to tease you until you come." Sherlock smiles, putting his claws and knee onto the end of the bed.

He was crawling. 

Like a cat about the pounce. 

Arse in the air, a nice sway, and head to the surface. 

John moaned, paying attention to the knife handle, going a slight back and forth, dripping blood on the bed. 

No not dripping.

Oozing. 

It was spilling everywhere. And Sherlock looked like he didn't even feel anything. 

Sherlock purred as he put his hands on both sides of John. His knees were beside John's thighs. Blood fell off his nose and dripped down his arm. 

"I would fuck that mouth until you choked on my cock." He growled, closing in. He used his upper strength to hover over John's face without falling on him. That would result in something painful. 

John bucked his hips upwards and saw himself actually do it. 

He went through Sherlock. 

And Sherlock just stared at him like it didn't happen. 

"Sherlock." John whispered.

"Let me fuck your mouth." 

"No. Sherlock." John mumbled, putting his hand on Sherlock's face.

His hand went through. 

"Sherlock!" John yelled, getting up quickly. His emotions were jumbled. He was most definitely scared out of his fucking mind. 

Sherlock started to cough. He coughed up blood. Too much.

Too much blood to think it was just normal-ish. 

These were pools. 

"Sherlock! Stop!" John tried to help but he knew he wasn't actually there. He knelt against the bed post, watching Sherlock cough and curl up in a pool of blood.

"John. Help me!" Sherlock called out. John frowned and stayed against the bed post. There was nothing he could do. 

"Johnnnn." He whined, coughing out of control. 

John cried. 

He yelled and ran out the door. He was incapable of seeing such a horrific sight. 

His treasure dying on his bed. 

Re-living the past.

Fear was eating him alive. 

And his mental sickness was growing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as smutty as promised but you know  
> You get what you get.
> 
> SORRY FOR ENDING ANOTHER CHAPTER REAL SADLY.  
> MY BAD <3  
> sorry, Luci (at the most. Pleaseeeee don't murder me.)


	5. Night in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting out of control with this story.
> 
> Guys, if you want sad endings (not that this IS the ending, it's not) just... just keep reading.  
> Wifey, no.  
> Don't murder me for this.

Gasps and wheezes were thrown in every direction in the garden. Left, right, right, left, left. Too many twists and turns.

John was running.

Running from what he saw.

From what he feared.

From what was going to happen if he stayed. 

If he stayed...

He couldn't do anything for this not to happen. Sherlock's death was implanted into his brain, rotting him to the core, ruining his mental health, poisoning him. 

His face was worn out and done. His heart was broken. His brain was ill. 

All he could see was Sherlock's dying face when he sat next to him in his cell. The knife in his shoulder-blade. The blood on his face, drying slowly. How he murdered for him. 

"John." He hears. John turns around, his hands over his cheeks, wiping heavy flowing tears. His eyes were squinting from the pain of the glow that he faced. Sherlock was glowing. 

Glowing. 

"John. Why didn't you save me?" Sherlock whimpered. A tear rolled down his cheek. 

"I couldn't save you. I couldn't do it. I was incapable of fixing you. I-" Sherlock hovered a claw over his mouth. His face wandered off, not even paying attention to John. 

"I want to die, Sherlock. Let me die. I want to join you so fucking bad." John cried, dropping to his knees. His face scrunched up and he fell to Sherlock's feet. The glow burnt his eyes. 

"Don't." Sherlock sighed. He looked down at John's body in sorrow and pain. He could feel John's tension floating in the air. Fear was trying to get in him. It obviously worked quite well. 

"Let me join you! Let me leave this world! I want to touch you and be with you. You can't be a figment of my imagination anymore I hate it. It's like you're there but you're not! Let me die. Please. Let me die..." John cried. he sniffed and cried. 

Balled. 

Misery sank into his heart. 

"Look at me. Look at me, Sherlock. I've been a mess without you." 

"That's why I came to you." 

"Shut up! You were never there!" He threw fists at the ground. "You were never there after you died. You were hallucinations."

"I wasn't. I was there. I was there sipping tea. I watched you put on that jumper. I wanted to suck you out. Yes, I was there trying to eat your salad. I did strip tease for you. Don't you understand? I was always here for you. I gave up heaven to be with you, John. Please. Don't kill yourself. Please. Stay with me." 

"No. I can't!" John cried. He was broken down. Shredded. His heart was missing. His mind was gone. 

John quickly got up and ran. He ran into garden beds and over benches. He didn't look back. He just cried. And ran.

"John!" Sherlock yelled, his radiance shimmered brighter. Out, in, out, in. The light was blinding. It was like a torch. "John! Come back!" He cried. Yellow objects fell from his eyes as he pleaded into the night sky. Searching. Searching for his treasure. 

# ~☢~

"John.." Sherlock yelled once more. His voice was hoarse from calling his name repeatedly. Over and over, he called out. His light was as bright as the sun, blue if you looked at it for too long. He could fill an ocean with the tears he cried in the past ten minuets. 

He took a final step and turned around, his light dimming down. 

A depressed noise came from the distance. 

Crying.

Sherlock turned back around, his light burning bright once again. The radiance was unbearable. 

"John! Don't move! Let me talk to you!" He yelped, running towards the sobbing. 

It only took him a minute to find John, and his glow went back to normal as he floated next to him and sat down. 

"John..." He mumbled, looking at him with sweet and tender eyes. John looked forward, not moving. His frown was painted along his face. Anger ran over his skin.

"I have no purpose." 

"Neither do I anymore. Or I used to, until I came back to you." Sherlock sighed, looking forward. They stared into the night together, looking at the slim trees surrounding them. 

"What do you mean?" John looked into Sherlock's eyes. He squinted from the light. Sherlock looked back at him. 

"Being a star is boring. I want to be with you. You're my purpose." 

"What...?" 

"I'm a star, John." Sherlock smiled, looking back to the dark. 

"Explain." John laughed, loosening up a bit. He was so interested. "Stars are balls of fire. In the galaxy. You can't be a star."

"Oh, but I am. And I'll tell you all about it if you don't get smart-arse on me like that." Sherlock chuckled, grinning.

"Go on then. Don't be afraid to stop me." John said, crossing his arms. He got comfy where he was sitting.  

"Well... When I died, I floated up to the ceiling. I could see you over me. I could see Mary beside me. She was scoffing at me. Anyway, I kept on the ceiling until someone dragged me into a portal. It was blue. And shiny. There were two gates. Two people. One man who was shining bright and another man who was dark and bloody. They both looked the same but their radiance were either dark or blinding."

"You mean the angel and the devil?" John interrupted.  

"Yes. I guess. Anyway, the person guiding me showed me to the person with the bright light and he talked to me. He recognized how much I loved you. He said it was more than he's seen in a while. He offered me to either stay in heaven or give it up to be a star."

"Why the hell would you accept that?" John laughed. 

"Let me tell you!" Sherlock giggled, turning around. "I, in great confusion, asked why I would ever want to be a star. He told me, that if I was a star, I would get to watch over you from the galaxy above. And maybe, sometimes, I would get to even visit you. I accepted it. I wanted to be with you. But, I soon realized that being a star would always be perfect. He sent me far up into space, probably millions of miles away from the atmosphere of Earth. I could barely see you. That's why I was so bright." 

"Wait. What? Why were you so bright?" 

"When a star is bright, they're scared. Scared out of their minds. All those stars out there are others, scared and alone. Watching over loved ones. They're placed anywhere. The one's farthest from Earth shine the most. That's what I was told. Anyway, sometimes I would see other stars cry stardust. They were in so much pain. I was shining the brightest in my group, though. I would cry when you weren't outside at night. I decided to go to you." 

"Why?"

"I was scared, John. I wanted to be comforted. I shot down to Earth for you. I spent days with you. You just... processed me as a hallucination. Nothing." 

"I'm sorry. Myths like these. I didn't know they even were real."

"Well they are! Every single burning star! They're looking,  **thinking,** of their loved one. The person they cared so much about that they gave up heaven for! I gave up heaven for you. I wanted to see you. I need you." 

"Sherlock, please. Stop." John curled up.

Sherlock sighed and looked away from John. His light flickered and wavered.

“I could see you from far away when you were trying to find me.” John mumbled, rubbing his arms. Coldness was creeping in the forest.

“I was scared. Scared you would drown yourself or jump off a cliff. I don’t know what is in this forest. I wanted you to be safe.”

“What would happen if I died? Right here. Right now.”

“It’s unclear to me but I think I would feel a heavy pain my chest. I would shine so bright, you couldn’t look at me. I would explode. I could kill hundreds with my explosion. Make sure you die when I’m in space.” Sherlock giggled. He swooped down next to John. His light dimmed down a lot. It was the light of one match that was lit in complete darkness.

“But that isn’t- Stars shine for millions of years. Way more than a lifespan. And star explosions are rare-ish. You’re lying.”

“I said it was unclear to me.”

“Right.” John smiled. He yearned to place his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. He knew he physically couldn’t. It wasn’t possible anymore. Sherlock could only provide John light and heat since he died.

“Watch me when I die.”

“What?”

“I want you to watch me when I die. So I can see you, and you can see me.” John mumbled. His voice was serious but loving. Tenderness was holding the words together. They were painful and sad, punching Sherlock in the face when he heard them. He spoke the truth back to Watson.

“I can’t face to look at you dying.”

“Neither could I, Sherlock.” He sighed. His hand started to burn. His heart started to melt. Tears were being produced. “I couldn’t stand to see you die in my arms. With your bloody claws and that knife making you bleed everywhere. I was hurt. I was stained with our blood literally everywhere, Sherlock. The blood from my hands where Mary jabbed me. The blood of your body, pouring out. I can’t take this much. There’s only so much I can actually take before I lose all sense.” John cried. Tears were flowing down his cheeks once again. Sherlock watched, pouting with every word John spoke. Sorrow filled his ears and drained the happiness from him.

“I’m sorry.”

“No….You gave up heaven for me. You dumb-arse I’m not that special. Can’t you see? Your death drove me mental and I’m bound to die soon. You didn’t have to come back.” John curled up into a ball.

“It took effort to get here, you know.” Sherlock frowned. “It was painful to get here. To see you. And I came here using my energy and power to see you and you repay me with hatred. Because I chose to be with you. I gave up being an angel, living in comfort to being a star. Scared, lonely, and permanently frightened in the freezing abyss of darkness above your own head. Do you know how bad I wanted to see you again?” Sherlock's light burst, shining bright. John had to cover his eyes. 

"Sherlock. Why are you so scared?" 

"I'm scared I'm-" He took a deep breath. He wiped his face, flicking stardust on the ground. "I'm going to lose you. You're going to die and I would be thrown away or die into nothingness. Specks of star floating in space. Pitch black. And I love just seeing your face, hearing your voice, and feeling your touch. I could think about you all day, I love you so much. And if you die, I die. And I can't think about you when I'm dead. I can't do anything with you when I'm dead." 

"Oh, Sherlock. All you ever wanted to do was be with me?"

"I've been thinking that my whole life. You were the first and last thing I ever saw. I want it to be that way. I just." Sherlock's face was covered in dust. He shone bright. Too bright. "I need to go home..." He cried, kneeling down onto the ground. He was a huge ball of light, crying, whaling. 

"Sherlock stop!" John rushed to him, but Sherlock quickly faded away. 

John looked up into the sky, easy to see that most of the forest trees had little leaves. A glimmer appeared in the sky. It was bright. Lively and moving. Its edges waved in the night, pushing the dark away. It shone down on John like the North Star.

He knew which star it was.

It was Sherlock.

Saying his hello. 

Shining down upon him. 

John smiled. Tears formed in his eyes as he watched the wavering light. 

Sherlock smiled back, stardust falling from his eyes. He could spot John watching him. His light dimmed down until he blended in with the others. Thousands of calm stars spread across the sky. No other sight could make him happier. 


	6. A New Friend

John slept under the stars that night. 

It was freezing outside, but his jacket gave him just enough warmth. He watched the stars above. Sherlock, especially. He knew Sherlock could see him laying down. They stared at each other. And as long as John was there, he was dimmed. And it made John smile.

"I see you aren't scared. For once. And I hope to see you once again. In my dreams and in reality. I miss you. I missed you the second you went back up into the sky." John sniffed. Goosebumps covered his arms and legs. He shivered in silence. Sherlock dimmed more, almost like he wasn't even in the sky anymore. Sherlock looked down at John, cradled in a ball of light. He sighed, ready to conserve energy for the next time he saw him. 

A bright light made his pupils adjust enormously as the sun slowly emerged over England. He wouldn't be seen for a full twelve hours. America, Canada, Mexico, and Greenland would now see his light. His bright light as he sat in space, frightened and cold. He needed to feel safe. He needed to see John staring at him. That vision he had, closing in so far that he could watch him up close and no one else. 

"Hey!" A voice called out to him. He turned around, taking his hands off from around his shins. 

"Huh?" 

"Hey. I'm your neighbor, Triss. I'm kind of new at being a star. I'm scared and I thought you could help. You seem scared, too." 

"All stars are scared, Triss. It's what being a star is. Who are you looking over right now?" Sherlock smiled. "Nice to meet you by the way." 

"Thanks! Uh, I'm actually looking over my children in America. Red, Nade, and Isa. I'm also looking out for my Wife, Rose. She's taking care of them, I can see." She smiled, dimming down. Sherlock noticed how she balled herself up, messing with her hair. Constantly pushing it behind her ears. How it always flung back into her face. She was skinny. Absolutely magnificent. She had piercing green eyes and luscious Red hair. She was probably insecure. Most likely.

"How did you know we look over people?" She calmly asked.

"I know because I'm looking over someone, too. His name is John. He's my creator. Treasure. I love him more than anything I've ever known." He whimpered. Stardust about to fall off his eyelids and slide down his cheeks.

"Sorry. We all have those people we would give up life for just to see them live on." Triss sighed. "I died in a car accident. It was horrible. I was T-boned by a six-teen wheeler. Nade and Isa were in the car with me. We were coming back from Dragoncon in Atlanta. I died and they were immensely injured. Rose was.. Devastated. I promised her a safe ride home..." She started to tear up. She sniffed, flinging her hair back. Her brightness made Sherlock squint for a few seconds. 

"I was murdered. Murdered by John's girlfriend. I knew something was wrong with her. I couldn't tell John, though."

"Why?"

"Long story." He chuckled, remembering how he couldn't speak his mind and if he broke the strings right then would've stopped him from dying. 

Would've stopped so much things from happening. 

So much gore.

Violence.

Sadness and pain. 

"He was kneeling over me, crying onto my suit. Telling me not to go and I knew I couldn't do anything. There was no time left for me and I looked over at her. She was lying there with holes in her neck. Her face was painful to look at, how disturbing it was she was bleeding everywhere. I was bleeding everywhere. John was crying more than I've ever seen him before. It made me die quicker to see him in agony over me. How his face scrunched up and how he sniffled back mucus and blood. So many thoughts ran through my head and only one went out my mouth." 

Triss looked at Sherlock in a sad way. She was sorry. Her heart sank from listening to what he just said. 

"I've never heard a more melancholy death. I apologize."  

Triss bit at her nails. She was anxious. 

“You alright?” Sherlock leaned in, trying to get as far in as he could. She looked over with worried eyes. Her toes tried to curl around her bottom as she hugged her legs closer to her. She looked like a glowing womb in the middle of nowhere.

“Yeah. I’m afraid they are going to kill themselves to get to me. And they won’t know that I won’t be in heaven when they get there.” She sighed. She wrapped her hair up in her palm and let it flow down her left side. Stardust slowly formed in her eyes. “And I won’t get to tell them how it happened because we’re banned from heaven from our decisions. I can’t tell them. I can only shine down on them.” She shone bright.

“I thought the same. I was scared I could never tell John that he couldn’t kill himself over me and I knew he was going to do it soon. I got upset and I needed to tell him. I found out that you can actually visit them. I did. He thought I was nothing but a hallucination. Until I told him, he avoided me. You have to tell them.” Sherlock smiled, thinking of what john was doing. Probably still lying under the sky, waiting for Sherlock to return to him. Buying a telescope, to see him shine down on him. Know he’s there. Alive. Well. To know that he was always with him.

“I should try that. Now.” Triss unraveled her long, pale body into a standing position. She tried hard to focus on her house, to land there.

“It’s painful. Just try to squirm out and then you’ll fly.”

“Okay.” She replied, moving her body in a swimming-type way. Breaststroke was the way to go. She flailed her arms and kicked her feet, only moving inches. It was hopeless. She wouldn’t get there in time.

“They can still see you in the daytime, remember that. You only shine a bit of radiance until night.” He called. She turned her head around and nodded, still flailing her naked body in the zero-gravity air. Her every pull and kick was full of enthusiastic joy to meet her wife and children again. Atlanta she was set on. Her home. Her family.

About three hours later, she formed a diving position, pointing her hands in-front of her head. They slowly lit up into a flame, as she drove down into the atmosphere, smiling and cheering for joy. Sherlock watched her hair sway in every direction, staying red as a strawberry. Sherlock saw the excitement but painful accomplishment thrown across her face. She was crying stardust when she opened her eyes, the air almost blinding her.

Off she went. Into the night sky of Atlanta. Sherlock stopped looking at her and looked at his side where Triss curled up. So close but so far. Little specks of stardust shimmered in her spot, leaving her mark. Sherlock grinned. He now knew how it felt like to go after love. It wasn’t just him that felt that way about the ones he loved. It was normal to be scared for someone else to the fact you would do **absolutely anything** for them.

And he found a burning passion for John even more. He needed to visit him. He needed to be with him. All the time.

Everyday.

Every single second that the clock ticks on a wall.

Every lonely hour.

Every week.

All the years in John’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ifunny family,  
> do these people sound familiar to you? ;)


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